The child had stopped crying.
That worried Miros more than the noise had.
The boy sat in his mother's arms, his face buried against her shoulder, while the line of refugees moved through the narrow passage. Around them, sandals scraped against stone. Someone coughed. A wounded man stumbled, caught himself against the wall, and continued without speaking.
Miros raised his lamp.
"Slow down. Leave space between the groups."
The people at the front obeyed. Those behind them did not understand why they had stopped until Antiphus moved along the line, explaining in a low voice that they would have to be patient.
There were too many people for the passage.
Women carried bundles of clothing and whatever food they had been permitted to bring. Older children helped younger ones walk. Several men leaned on improvised crutches, their bandages already darkened by sweat. Others had to be supported between two people.
